


Efflorescence

by SilverstarTheHybrid



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki AU, M/M, Post-Squip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverstarTheHybrid/pseuds/SilverstarTheHybrid
Summary: It wouldn't let me add tags because I'm on mobile so tags will be added later, also the authors are thirsty hoes for validation, this is a hanahaki au





	1. Prologue: Hanahaki Byou

 

Hanahaki Byou, in most cases, is fatal. If not treated, that is. It’s rare, and not many contract it. It’s heartbreaking to watch, and not as easy to get rid of as it may seem. It spawns from unrequited love. When one’s feelings aren’t returned, or go unnoticed, it forms. It starts out mild, a flutter in your chest, or an ache in your throat. Nothing serious. Nothing that would raise any alarms.

 

_ It gets worse.  _

 

You start to cough. Nothing comes up, but you can feel it. It swims at the pit of your stomach, threatening to rise. It isn’t often that it’s caught early, mostly due to the fact that not many believe it to be real. It’s a myth. A legend, really. Known by few, and shared by many fewer, the disease is virtually unknown.

 

After the coughing, when you think you have nothing more than a common cold, you begin to cough up blood. Just speckles, but it’s enough to concern you. Not enough to concern a doctor, apparently. Any scans you get will come up blank. Any tests performed come out negative. You’re sent home with some advil and a note to get you out of school, or out of work.

 

Then come the flower petals.

 

They’re usually white, although they vary from person to person and from emotions and stages. It depends on how bad it is. As the disease takes over, the petals become larger. There’s more blood, and the petals fall from between your lips more frequently. You never feel hungry, because your stomach is always full. You can never breathe, because the fronds stick to the sides of your throat, plastered there with blood and saliva. 

 

If your love is not returned, you either die, or you pay the ultimate price. A surgery, one that takes not only the pain away, but the emotions too. The very essence of who you are is ripped away. Never can you feel joy again, but then again, you can never feel pain again. You become a shell of a person, incapable of much of anything at all. Wisps of what you used to feel remain, itching at the back of your mind, and sparking. But no matter how much you reach for them, they are always just out of your grasp. It’s a horrible way to live.

 

The unfortunate souls cursed with this illness rarely have the will to go on. Their feelings go either unnoticed or unreturned. Due to the limited knowledge on the disease, not many actually know what causes it, and that is usually their downfall. 


	2. Prepare to Survive Again

Senior year… hell for many, but for one Jeremy Heere, it's only beginning. He's attempting to rebuild a broken friendship as well as attempting to apologize for all the shenanigans with the SQUIP. The absolute havoc he’d wreaked had left many in pieces, including himself. But he didn’t have time to worry about himself. The people around him, his friends, mattered far more. 

 

Jeremy’s phone vibrates and then he moves to check it, a message from one Michael Mell. Michael was by far one of his best friends, and Jeremy was surprised he was still around. He’d been one of the ones who’d gotten hurt. Bad. Jeremy had… he hadn’t been good to him. Honestly, if Jeremy had to name the person who’d gotten most of the backlash from the SQUIP, it’d have to be Michael. 

 

Jeremy looked down at his phone. “Hey, bitch.” It read, flashing every second or so as though trying to alert him. As though he couldn’t see it already. Jeremy felt himself smile despite his depressing thoughts about how much of a fuck up he was. With much vigor, he hurried to unlock his phone and reply with all the gusto of a gay pride parade.

 

“SUP FUCKER.” Jeremy muttered to himself as he responded in all caps, his smile growing into a grin. He loved texting Michael. He was one of the few people who didn’t judge him for what had happened. He treated him exactly the same as before. As though maybe Jeremy hadn’t done anything insanely wrong, like almost destroying their whole entire school, and possibly the entire world as they knew it! 

 

“R00d.” Was Michael’s only response. Plain, simple, and something that made Jeremy laugh for absolutely no reason. It was a single word, and yet he was over here acting like a dying seal who’d just been harpooned straight through the stomach. It was ridiculous, but he let it happen. He needed a good laugh.

“Wassup.” Jeremy responded quickly as soon as he’d gathered himself enough to, you know,  _ not _ be a dying seal. But he paused when he felt this odd tickling sensation at the back of his throat. An itch, really. He coughed slightly. 

 

“Thinking about you, hoe (;” Michael responded quickly, and Jeremy found himself feeling like he was going to laugh all over again. The tickling sensation that had seemed so annoying just a second before faded to the back of his mind as his shoulders shook with unverbalized laughter. 

 

“Big mood.” Jeremy responded with the zest only someone who’d eaten pleasantly spicy genuine mexican salsa earlier that day could possess. 

 

“Ikr, u ready for some more tasty ass hell?” Michael wittily replies with the sass that only someone with severe senioritis on the first day could muster.

 

“You know it.” Jeremy responded, snorting to himself as he typed it out. Michael was by far the most laid back dude he knew. And not just because he smoked mass amounts of weed on the weekends either. He was genuinely a down-to-Earth guy that Jeremy, in all honesty, loved. 

 

“Jeremy, time to get up!” Came the call of his father, a sign that it was time to rise for the hell they called school. So that’s exactly what he did. He got dressed in a striped shirt, as per usual, and his blue cardigan. He searched for his phone. The amount of times he’d managed to misplace it were beginning to pile up, but it wasn’t all that surprising. He’d lose his head were it not attached to his neck.

 

“Yo, can you pick me up? I don’t wanna take the bus.” Jeremy texted once he finally found his phone, which had been sneakily hiding from him in the folds of one of his blankets. He then shoved his phone in his pocket, making sure it was far enough in that it wasn’t going to fall out. It had before, and he found that retracing his steps to try and track it down again wasn’t fun.

 

“Yeh.” His phone dinged, and it was a text from Michael. He supposed putting his phone in his pocket had been stupid. It didn’t matter. He grabbed his bag, throwing open the door to his rather bland room and tromping his way right down the hall. Michael didn’t live all too far away, and he didn’t want to make his friend wait. That would be rude. Jeremy didn’t fancy being rude.

 

Michael’s pov

 

The sound my car was making, in all honesty, wasn’t the most comforting thing I’d ever heard. The rumbling noise was something it hadn’t made before, but I didn’t have the energy to care. It was too early for this shit. If it were my decision, I’d still be sleeping. But I have this amazing thing called a mother, and she acts as an alarm clock. But five more fuckin’ minutes would have been nice-

 

A familiar ache crept up from the pit of my stomach and straight into my chest. Being in the same world as Jeremy, the same space, made it this way. It sucked ass, but it was something I didn’t have much control over. I prepared myself as the urge to cough welled up inside my, my lungs constricting and my throat itching. 

 

I coughed. Not much, but enough to make a few familiar blue petals fall from my lips. It was a shade of blue I’d learned to hate. It was hell, and I had to scowl everytime it happened. It was a constant and damn painful reminder of what was right there, but just out of reach. Of what I wanted, but could never, and would never, have.

 

I brushed them off my lap and into the floorboards, glad no blood had come up to stain my jeans. I wiped at my mouth just in case. I didn’t taste the metallic tang, but I didn’t want Jeremy asking questions when he finally came out of his house. The last thing I wanted to do was worry him. He’s already timid as hell, and he dwells on every little thing, no matter how small it is. 

 

The sound of the passenger door opening startled me, and I almost let out a shriek. Getting murdered was not on my goddamn to-do list. Who the fuck murders someone at seven in the fuckin’ morning?! No one! No one but maybe, you know, a psychopath--

 

“Morning.” Jeremy yawned out as he slid into the passenger side seat, letting out a yawn. “Thanks for picking me up.”

 

“Oh, sure man.” I nodded, trying to play down the fact that I’d just had a miniature panic attack over a psychotic killer that didn’t even exist. “It’s no problem.”


	3. The Petals

Soon enough the two of us arrive at the school, myself holding back the familiar blue petals as they fought to climb up my throat. It hurt. My throat burned, and my stomach did too, but I ignored it. I was, unfortunately, used to this bullshit.

 

The flower petals were odd, and I was naturally curious seeing as I was literally hacking them the fuck up. In an ironic turn of events, they ended up being morning glories, which stand for eternal love.  _ Wonderful _ .

 

“Michael, you've been acting weird. Usually you talk a lot more… are you okay?” Jeremy worriedly inquired, gazing at his friend with question.

 

“Oh, yeah; I'm alright. Just have a bit of a cold is all.” I lied straight through my teeth with surprising ease. I feel bad for lying to him, but I have no choice. I don't want him to worry about me.

 

“Alright then. Just make sure to take of yourself, okay.” Jeremy reminded. I felt guilt deep into his already present pain.   _ Fuck, _ why does he have to be so goddamn cute? Why does he have to  _ be  _ at all?

 

“Yeah, of course, Jere. Only the best for my player two!” I muster up the best jovial tone I can. I like to think I've become rather good at painting over my pain with faux joy. Which is sort of sad, but it's the way things are.

 

I park the car, turning it off. The sound of the engine powering down is oddly comforting in a way I can't explain. I don't dwell on it. Instead, I slide out of the car, grabbing my backpack as I did so. I never did manage to scrub the ‘reinds’ off of it. Dammit Rich.

 

We began our trek up to the school, slowly but surely. The flowers swimming in the pit of my stomach decide to rip up once more, making another attempt to scale my throat.  I race to come up with an excuse. I can't let Jeremy know.

 

“Hey, Jere, I'll be right back. I've gotta take a whiz.” I blurt out, and then I'm gone, rushing off to the bathroom before I can get a response. The school bathrooms are questionable in the areas of smell and… sanitation, but right now I don't really care. I lock myself in a stall.

 

I let myself cough. Hacking and sputtering, I find myself scowling as petals and blood fly from my mouth, raining down on the grimy floor and the loose toilet seat. They blow out everywhere, the blue petals of a morning glory and the yellow of a rose falling from my bloody lips. Eternal love and everlasting friendship. The fucking  _ irony.  _

 

Jeremy’s pov

 

Jesus Christ. 

 

It's getting worse. The burning. I think I'll  have to go see a doctor soon, because no matter what I try and do, it doesn't go away. It's always there, scratching at the back of my throat. It's got to be some sort of infection. Nothing a little medicine can't fix, I'm sure.

 

Before I had time to react, Michael was suddenly gone. He bolted the rest of the way to the school, shouting some bullshit “I've gotta whiz” excuse back at me as he left me standing on the dying lawn of our drab school. I pressed my lips into a thin line. Wonderful.

 

I decided to just shrug it off for now, although that didn't stop the concern bubbling in the pit of my stomach. I cleared my throat a little. I feel the urge to cough, and I really don't want to, but it forces its way out anyway.

 

It escalates quickly into a full-blown fit that leaves me hunched over and questioning why I'm still alive. I feel something start to come up. It's got to be vomit, but it feels so solid. Not like a liquid.

 

The thing that had been, presumably, itching at the back of my throat, came up.

 

_ A flower petal?! _


End file.
